


Long Way to Happy

by Shadadukal



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Community: sfaflashfic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadadukal/pseuds/Shadadukal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikola is just not getting over his loss.</p><p>Spoilers for "Sleepers", but set after "Animus". Hurt/comfort. Written for challenge #8: weather at the LJ comm sfaflashfic .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Way to Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the P!nk's song of the same name.
> 
> There's weather in this, kinda, enough to fit the challenge I hope. I wasn't really inspired by it at first, but then Nikola's pain and despair hit me again and this is the result.

Nikola let the door of his room clang shut behind him. He walked slowly to the en-suite bathroom, leaving mud all over the rug, still plagued by the thoughts that had been running through his head all afternoon in the garden of Helen's Sanctuary, so much so that he had barely noticed the heavy rain until he was completely soaked through.

He shivered as his clothes dripped onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. Drip, drip, drip, drip. He grabbed the edges of the sink with both bands, deliberately not looking into the mirror, trying to catch his breath through the heartache squeezing his chest. He couldn't, he just couldn't go on like that. It hurt too fucking much. He didn't know how to live as a human, he'd never really known how anyway, even before he shot up on vampire blood. It was all his fault, for making the damned devamper in the first place, and that knowledge tore at his heart, bringing with it a rushing wave of self-hatred. He fought it away. It wasn't really his fault. If these cursed human civilizations hadn't needed proper rule, he wouldn't have set on this path of resurrecting the vampire race to start with. It was all _their_ fault.

He had tried everything he could think of to get his vampirism back. To no avail. Living without it was agony. Every. Single. Day. He managed to get through the motions well enough most days, working on the city map, here in Helen's house. But his loss was always eating away at him, like a cancer spreading through his body, slowly killing him from the inside out.

He gripped the sink harder, trying to will those sombre thoughts away. He sneezed, which reminded him he really should get out of his wet clothes.

There was a knock on the door frame of the bathroom and Helen peered inside the room. He started to wonder why she was here but immediately realized that she must have followed the trail of mud he'd left through the halls on his way to his room.

"Go away, Helen. I'd like to change," he said without thinking.

Too late he realised his mistake. If he wanted Helen to think he was fine, asking her to leave when he was about to take his clothes off was the opposite of what he should have gone for.

"Please, Helen, leave," he asked again in a soft voice, hoping against all hope that she would heed him.

He started to unbutton his waistcoat, looking down when it proved a struggle. In a few purposeful steps, Helen was in front of him, gently batting his hands aside to work at the buttons herself. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the wave of sadness welling inside him. A few treacherous tears escaped from between his eyelids despite his efforts. He squared his jaw, letting Helen slide his waistcoat off his body. She moved on to his shirt. He tried to say something, he didn't know what, but anything he might have said remained stuck in his tightening throat and all he could produce was a raspy sound, half-way between coughing and clearing his throat. Helen unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers, then untucked his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, down his arms and it fell on the floor with a wet sound.

He kept his eyes closed, didn't want to face the world or the pity in Helen's eyes, teetering on the edge of a crumbling cliff being eroded by the tidal wave of his all-consuming anguish. Helen wrapped a towel around his shoulders and placed the corners in his hands so he could hold it in place. Helen quickly towelled his hair with another piece of cloth. Helen moved down to untie his shoes and he stepped out of them once she was done. Finally he was unable to hold back the tears anymore and he started sobbing, eyes overflowing, resting his back against the wall, and not trusting his legs to keep him upright, he slid against it until he was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. Choking and hiccupping, he rested his chin against his knees, his tears flowing unhindered and racing down his cheeks.

"Oh, Nikola."

Her voice was near his ear. She put an arm around his shoulders, running her hand up and down his towel-covered back, while her other hand clenched his. The action was so simple, nothing that could possibly cure his spirit, and yet the sincerity of the gesture soothed him.

He turned his eyes, which he was sure were completely bloodshot, toward Helen and, blinking furiously, he sought out her gaze. She was squatting beside him in her high heels, her own eyes understanding, a pain of a similar kind reflected there.

"Nikola, your lips are purple and your hands feel like ice. You need to get out of those drenched clothes and into a warm bed."

He was grateful she kept her conversation all business, certain he wouldn't have been able to deal with her picking at the source of his grief. Now that his attention was brought back to the state of his attire, a strong shiver ran through him again. Pushing against the floor, he stood up, Helen's arm still around his back as she went up with him. Helen knelt down again and tugged his socks off his feet. Then she slid his pants and his underwear down his legs before standing up again.

She took his face in her hands, drying his tears with swipes of her thumbs, eyes locked with his.

"I love you."

Sincerity shone through her eyes. He could almost feel her friendship wash over him, buffeting him with her love. He opened his mouth to try to express how much having her in his life meant to him but she prevented him from doing so with her hand against his lips.

"Hush. Let's just get you into bed."

Still dejected, but touched by her affection, he let her lead him into the bedroom, his hand in hers. He shivered again and sneezed.

"You'll be very lucky if you don't fall ill," Helen chided as she threw the covers on the bed open. She motioned for him to get in and he lay down, eager to feel some warmth, curling in on himself.

"I'll bring you some hot tea", she said as she tucked him in.

"Helen, please, stay here a while."

Without hesitation, Helen shucked off her stilettos, and settled on the covers, facing him, her forehead coming to rest against his. She encircled him with her arm, once more running it up and down his back firmly. He dragged his hand out from under the blankets and Helen took it with her other hand right away, her fingers threading with his.

"Nikola, come to me before driving yourself in such states," she said with a pleading note in her voice.

"I will, I will," he said, too exhausted now to discuss anything, but he knew, as she did, that the next time he felt so forlorn he would keep his pain to himself again.

As he drifted into sleep, welcoming the quieting of his thoughts, he felt her lips brush against his eyelids. He couldn't help the smile that came to his face and he wished to express his gratitude for the comfort she offered him but he couldn't fight his weariness anymore, falling asleep to the tender pressure of Helen's lips on his.


End file.
